


Rebus and Rune

by kijilinn



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: F/M, Robot/Human Relationships, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-30 16:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijilinn/pseuds/kijilinn
Summary: Rebus is a puzzle. Rune is a symbol. Neither means quite the same thing without the other.As Rebus wakes up, he starts to wonder who the woman is who speaks to him in the black. She tells him her name is Rune.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some narrative and dialog in chapter one taken from team-writing with LadyLoreLitany.

“Sleep mode.”

_Sensory input arrested. Motor function arrested. Non-narrative recording paused. Initiating RNS dream potential. Initiating personality data. 60-minute sleep timer._

_Log mark: SN57:D1 | Location: Mariposa, room 3 | Memory set: SN55:D32_  
_Unit: Rebus b12.7, BLM 12/08/21-gkm, BA 12/08/21-gkm_

Rebus grunted awake and half-sat up stopped to glare around the familiar room at the Mariposa and looked down to consider the top of the whore’s blonde head. She was snuggled up against him, her arm thrown over his stomach and her face still buried in his chest. Had he paid her for the whole night? Which one was she? As much time as he’d spent in the company of the Mariposa whores, very few of them had left much of an impression on him besides Maeve and Clementine. “Hey,” he muttered and flexed his stomach, making her head wobble. “Get up.”

She whined and curled her arm around him more tightly as she let her face turn toward him. “C’mon, Rebus, just give me ten more minutes?”

“Paula,” Rebus sighed, recalling her name in a brief flash of well-paid and enthusiastic sex bracketed by whiskey shots. He remembered now that he had paid her for the whole night mostly because he was feeling generous and she had asked him to. “I’m done with you and I ain’t payin’ for another hour. Get up.” Paula muttered some very unflattering things under her breath, but got up and reached for her clothing while Rebus stood to pull on his own.

As the whore tromped out of the room, Rebus paused in just his trousers and socks to look out the window on the main street. People were milling around in their usual patterns, attending to errands and bumping into each other pleasantly. The sheriff was calling for help to track down Horace and he could see someone he didn’t know dragging the Ryan brothers toward the wall of bounty posters.

_Guests. Identify: 27. NTags: 3._

He muttered to himself and wondered how many of his crew still haunted the Mariposa’s barroom below. He shrugged into a shirt, snapped his suspenders and pulled on the jacket before hunting for his hat. Boots and socks and gun belt finished his preparations and he wandered down the steps and into the barroom. Two of his usual crew were hanging near the bar, one of them with an arm around a woman in a plain cotton dress and her hair in ringlets. “There’s the man!”

Rebus raised an eyebrow and slumped at the bar, requested a beer. “What do you want, Willie?”

“This here’s Fredricka Mahrs,” Willie said with a smug smile. “She was askin’ for you.”

_NTag: confirmed, romantic subquest, nonsexual sideline. Timeline updated._

Rebus sat up straighter on his stool, then slid down to bow over her hand. “Well, how-dee, ma’am,” he said in his best gentleman’s voice, which still didn’t sound terribly posh. “An’ what can I do fer you this fine day?”

***

“We have a request coming in from the Mariposa. Female guest. Romantic deviation with no limits. Host John.”

“Thanks, Janet. Computer, open Branch F of narrative 59, day 4, Mariposa Romance and approve host John b8.2, please.”

The computer chimed. “Branch F of SN59:D4 with John b8.2 has been opened and approved, Verity.”

“Acknowledged. Thank you. Computer, delay the start of the saloon fight until both participants in Branch F are upstairs and ping Retrieval Team A to make sure they’re ready.”

The ping went out over the comms and Verity watched on the three-dimensional model as a petite woman with curly auburn hair covered in a fresh coat of dark henna and dressed like a male ranch hand in denim and cotton led her team into position. “Hello, Rune,” Verity greeted Gudrun Michaelson. “You’ve got two upstairs playing out Branch F of the Mariposa Romance narrative. The script should ignore the shootout while they get freaky, so otherwise, you should be looking at a normal clean-up.”

“Gotcha. Branch F, huh? That’s no limits, right? Very nice.”

Verity snorted. “If there’s demand, I supply. Should be interesting to see how it plays out and if the guest like it.”

“I’ll say. Who’ve I got on deck this time? You know I like to double-check my list.”

“You’ll be picking up Willie, Benedict, Allen, and Rebus, according to the narrative I have pulled up.”

“That checks out. All right. Hit me.”

“You got it. Shootout in 3… 2… 1.”

On Verity’s model, she watched as the rough crew shouldered into the saloon and started shooting. Hosts went flying while the two remaining guests threw themselves safely under a table. Rune’s crew angled in from a side street and waited until the shooting had died down, leaving only Benedict still standing. The guest under the table finally stood up and shot him, much to the screaming delight of her companion.

As the guests strutted around the bloody saloon before wandering out into the street in search of a new storyline to follow, Rune said, “Remote shutdown for all damaged hosts. Sleep mode for undamaged hosts.”

“Acknowledged,” replied the computer.

Immediately, Maeve and her girls all froze in place, staring straight ahead with their bodies at standing rest. Rune waved a hand and her crew followed her inside, checking for anything beyond surface damage to the downed hosts. “Oh, Rebus,” Rune sighed sadly when she found the last of the outlaws crumpled under a table. His eyes were still open and she could tell from his posture that he was in sleep mode rather than shutdown. “I swear, there’s a magnet in your belly for lead.” He had taken two shots to the stomach and another to his chest, low enough that it looked like it had probably punctured a lung. He wasn’t “dead” yet but he would have bled out before any other guests had come across him. Rune crouched beside him and said, “Shutdown, host Rebus.”

“Rebus b12.7 is in full shutdown,” the computer replied.

“Bullshit he is,” Rune snorted. “I can see his eyes. Shut him down so I can move him.” Finally, the host’s brown eyes closed and he slumped completely to the floor, his hat falling off as he did so. Rune caught it and put it on her own head before catching him under the arms and dragging him out into the center of the floor. “Looks like we’ll need an extra two sweeps under the table here,” she called. “Rebus bled out.”

“Again?” complained Charlie and Rune glared at him.

“Like we can control who gets gut shot and who takes it cleanly in the eye.” She pulled Rebus the rest of the way to the stretchers and Levi helped her haul him up onto the slab. “Who’s on repair today?”

“I think they’re down a few,” Levi said. “Flu’s going around again.”

Rune nodded and helped Levi lift Allen onto the stretcher beside Rebus, then turned away to tap her radio. “Computer, connect me to Repair, please.”

"One moment.”

“Repair,” Cynthia’s voice came over the radio, sounding stressed and tired.

“Hey, it’s me,” Rune said quickly. “You short?”

“Yeah, three out sick.” Cynthia paused, then added hopefully, “Are you going to come down?”

“I figured I could help out. This is my last clean-up for the afternoon, I think, and they don’t need me back at Central Control.” Rune looked down at Rebus, noting the feathering of his hair where it usually was pressed under the hat. “Just the usual suspects today, the saloon shootout.”

“I can have a room set up in half an hour if you want to take one or two of them.”

“No problem. I’ll talk to you later, Cynthia.”

“Thanks a bunch, Rune. Later.”

“The hat suits you,” grinned Levi when Rune turned off her radio.

“I almost forgot about it,” she chuckled and took it off again, setting it on Rebus’s chest. She smoothed his hair back with a fond smile, then whispered, “I’ll see you down there, handsome.” She turned back to Levi and Charlie with a nod. “Let’s get ‘em out of here.” With a little pushing and a mechanized whine, the stretchers powered up and rolled out of the saloon, leaving space for the prop cleaners to sweep up the blood and reset the chairs and tables.

***

“Rebus, online, diagnostics mode. Arrest motor function, no sensory input.”

It was dark. He couldn’t move. Not so much that he was restrained; more like moving wasn’t something that happened. A woman’s voice was speaking to him. He wondered what she looked like. He knew her voice, had heard it before. Only in the black, though. In the dark, where movement didn’t exist.

“Can you hear me, Rebus?”

“Yes.”

“Access personality data and allow emotional affect. Tell me a story.”

A cascade of memories flew past his mind’s eye: falling out of a tree and breaking his arm when he was eight, pulling Ellie Jamison’s hair and running to hide because she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, the look on his mama’s face when she told him his daddy was dead. “What kind of story?”

“Have you ever been in love, Rebus?”

Ellie’s face flashed back again, her eyes red from crying as she sprinted away to tattle on him. How guilty he’d felt, knowing he’d pulled hard enough to hurt her. “Don’t believe I have, ma’am.”

“Hmm. Tell me about a happy moment, then.”

Distantly, he could hear odd sounds, a faintly mechanical whirring, a sound almost like sandpaper on leather. He pulled himself back to the request. “Haven’t had many of them,” he said. “Though I saw a girl once. Pretty little thing, dressed like a man. Don’ know why she bothered with clothes at all, way those pants hugged her.” There was silence except for the mechanical whirring and Rebus wished he could see. “Something wrong, ma’am?”

“No. But seeing her was a happy moment?”

“Yes, ma’am. Seeing her there in the bar with her hat pulled low over her nose with all the freckles. Made me happier ‘n I’ve ever been. Didn’t make no sense, not then. Not now.” Rebus paused and fell silent, replaying the moment in his head.

“What did she look like?”

“She weren’t very tall, probably didn’t come up to my chin even. Spectacles, big ones. Guess she couldn’t see much. Kept her hair short for a woman, too long for a man and it looked soft and clean. All of her was clean.” Rebus smiled, remembering. “Smelled nice, too, when I passed her. Wanted to stop and talk, but it was like she din’ even see me.”

After a moment, the woman’s voice whispered gently, “Oh. She saw you.”

“Think so?” he asked hopefully. “I mean, I ain’t much, ‘specially to a pretty girl like her. She’s probably got dozens of fellas from all over come callin’.” He sighed and let his mind fold over the memory like the closing of hands around a firefly.

The buzzing hum had returned and then Rebus had the brief sensation of being moved, rocked slightly. “If you see her again,” the woman’s voice said, “you should stop, say hello.”

The memory glowed a little inside his mind and Rebus smiled, wanting to hold it close. “I think I will.”

“Sleep mode.” And the black was complete again.

***

Rune sat looking at Rebus thoughtfully. He had seen her and retained a memory of her. It wasn’t a narrative memory but the fact that he had noticed her at all seemed surprising. She hardly fit the profile for his usual preference in women. She remembered the encounter, too. It had been on her first employee discount weekend, maybe six months after she’d taken the job down in the chop shops. She had only taken two of those weekends in the eight years she had worked for WestWorld, both times going black hat with relish and running first with Horace’s gang and then Rebus’s. She hadn’t interacted with him at all that first weekend. So why had he remembered her?

She should bring him back online to delete the memory. Deep down, Rune knew that was the best course of action. No host was supposed to retain memories between periodic wipes, but Rebus had obviously kept a hold of this one for the last seven years. Seven years of being killed and wiped four to five times a week, fifty-two weeks a year.

A happy memory. Seeing her was a happy memory? She smiled and ran the backs of her fingers down his cheek. She was fond of the narrative’s villains at large and Rebus in particular. She had activated the romantic and sexual sidelines of the Bonnie and Clyde narrative with Rebus and the weekend had been a whirlwind of violence, thievery, sex, and the occasional flash of actual tenderness. She knew the writer who had scripted most of Rebus’s romantic interactions, Verity DeLane, had a talent for balancing amoral characters with a sense of humanity. She had enjoyed the weekend and had more than once considered a return trip to run with Rebus again. Finances just hadn’t been in the right place, even with her employee discount.

Rune took a moment to kiss him, just remembering the weekend. It wasn’t the first time she’d flashed back like this and wouldn’t be the last. She just missed being close to someone and Rebus had been surprisingly uncomplicated.

As she pulled back and packed up her gear, Rune smiled to herself. “Idiot,” she muttered. It wasn’t that she was lonely. She went out with Levi and Cynthia occasionally, sometimes pried Verity out of her cave for dinner and a movie. She had her family. She had dated on and off but nothing ever seemed right. The men she was drawn to tended to be incapable of maintaining a long-term relationship--though often incredible in the sack--and the women all wanted more than Rune could give, herself being entirely too much like the men who kept cheating on her. A weekend of social and sexual amorality had been refreshing.

Rune smiled at the memory of something Rebus had said to her post-coitus near the end of her stay: “A girl like you makes a man think of givin’ up a life of crime.” As if Rebus would ever obey laws. As if she would be happy with him if he did. But it was a nicely written line, more of Verity’s subtle handiwork. Maybe it was time to count her pennies and take a few days off.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sensory input arrested. Motor function arrested. Non-narrative recording paused. Initiating RNS dream potential. Initiating personality data. 60-minute sleep timer._

_Log mark: SN60:D33 | Location: Sector 9, X73:Y138 | Memory set: SN60:D32_

_Unit: Rebus b12.8, BLM 06/28/23-bal, BA 06/30/23-gkm_

The sun broke over the rise. Rebus felt it as light and color behind his eyelids even before he was fully awake, adding a strange pallor to the colors of the dream he was still having. He saw the girl from the bar in shades of grey instead of the almost strawberry blonde of her hair and the green plaid of her cotton work shirt. He frowned and let the dream go with a sigh. Sometimes he wished he could draw.

He could hear the sound of a fire crackling, feel the warmth on his left side; someone else was up and working on breakfast. He smiled slightly and opened his eyes, looked at the fire.

_Guests. Identify: 212. NTags: 2._

The young man by the fire glanced up at him and smiled. “Mornin’.”

_NTag: confirmed, romantic subquest, sexual sideline, no limits. Continuing narrative._

“Mornin’ yourself,” Rebus said and rolled himself up to a sitting position. “Smells good.”

“Just coffee,” the young man--Ivor Stankovich, guest, duration: 2 days, one night--said. “Didn’t have much more. There’s still some jerky in my pack if you want it.”

Rebus considered, then shook his head. “Naw, go ahead. I know a place not far from where we can scrounge up some grub.” He smiled, studying the way the firelight played against Ivor’s face, conflicting with the shadows cast from the rising sun. He was a striking young man with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, eyes that betrayed intelligence and cunning. They had been riding most of the day yesterday after Rebus’s crew had decided to pull a job without him and waking up in the desert to fresh coffee stirred affection toward the other man. “I appreciate the coffee, though.”

Ivor smiled and Rebus felt his own smile slip into a grin. There was a blush rising on his cheeks that only made him better looking. “Hey, do you mind if I rush this a little?” he said and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Shoot.”

Ivor scooted over to sit next to him, reached to run his hand down Rebus’s cheek.

_Narrative timeline updated._

Rebus sighed and leaned his cheek into Ivor’s hand. “Thought you’d never do that.” Ivor grinned in anticipation and drew Rebus closer to test his lips, wary at first and then more enthusiastically when Rebus responded positively. Rebus reached to stroke his hands over Ivor’s cheeks, then down his chest and smiled when the other man let out a soft, eager sound. “How long you been waitin’ fer this?” he murmured softly.

“Two years, eighty-seven days,” Ivor breathed. “Took me that long to save up for the trip.”

Rebus made a pleased little growl in his throat and ran his thumb along Ivor’s jaw. “Hope I don’ disappoint, then.”

“You haven’t yet,” Ivor grinned and kissed him again. “You’re everything the brochure promised you’d be.”

_Anachronistic verbiage. Term not found: brochure. Strike from memory._

“Glad to hear it.” Rebus pulled him closer and tangled his hand in Ivor’s hair as he kissed him back. As the other man started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, Rebus just smiled and closed his fingers, tugging back until Ivor moaned softly in his throat. “Just what exactly do you think you’re doin’ there, mister?”

Ivor looked at him and his eyes were dark with a hunger that made Rebus feel warm all over. “I’m gonna take your clothes off and then have you suck my cock. How does that sound?”

_Guest request acknowledged. Narrative branch K1.5 approved._

Rebus’s smile softened and he let go of Ivor’s hair to nuzzle against his neck. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He stayed there, nibbling Ivor’s skin until he shivered and his hands worked Rebus’s shirt off over his shoulders. He groaned when Ivor dragged his nails over his skin and Rebus waited, struggling not to pant while the other man took his time stripping the rest of his clothes off. He was hard like he had been waiting for a month for some action and he turned his head to kiss Ivor’s arm when he started to stand up.

“Bad boy,” Ivor hissed and used Rebus’s shoulder to stand the rest of the way up. “Let’s put that mouth to some better use.” He unbuttoned his pants, reached in to stroke himself a few times, then pulled out an erection that made Rebus do a double-take. “Like what you see?”

“Oh, yes.”

Ivor’s eyes slit in pleasure and he added, “Call me ‘daddy.’”

_Guest request acknowledged. Narrative branch K1.52 approved._

“Yes, daddy.”

With a low groan, Ivor reached and pulled Rebus closer, ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, that’s nice.” Rebus flicked his tongue along his lips, then traced the tip around the glans of the other man’s penis. Ivor groaned again and fisted his hands in Rebus’s hair. As Rebus eased his penis between his lips and slowly lapped along the underside, Ivor moaned and his hips bucked sharply, driving into Rebus’s mouth roughly.

_Personality conflict. Resolution requires cessation of narrative. Behavior modification denied._

Rebus reached up to grab hold of Ivor’s hips, slowing the man’s thrusts to something his throat could more easily accommodate. From the movements of Ivor’s body, he wasn’t going to last much longer and didn’t need a whole lot of input from Rebus, so he just held on and made encouraging noises. When Ivor finally arched his back and grunted his completion, Rebus carefully locked his throat and waited, tongue still lapping gently. Ivor looked down at him and Rebus raised his eyebrows, questioning.

“Go ahead,” Ivor grinned, running a hand down his face. “I don’t care if you spit or swallow.” Rebus half-closed his eyes in thanks and tipped his face to the side to spit the man’s cum onto the dusty ground. Ivor stroked his face again and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “That was awesome.”

“Oughta be,” Rebus grinned back, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. “I’ve had enough practice.”

***

Rune swirled the dark wine in her glass, studied it, then sipped it with a small smile. She couldn’t afford much, even on a supervisor’s salary, but she could afford good wine in small amounts. This was a well-cellared Cabernet Sauvignon from the park stocks, full-bodied and peppery in all the ways a good Cab Sauv was.

“I can’t believe you’re drinking wine when there’s whiskey,” Cynthia said with a shake of her head. She had been doing whiskey shots on and off for almost an hour and had the intense look that tended to come when she wasn’t quite sure she could stay on her barstool without falling sideways. “It’s perfectly good whiskey, Rune, and you’re letting it go to waste.”

“I am not letting it go to waste,” Rune chuckled. “You know as well as I do that I can’t stand the taste of whiskey. My drinking it would be the real waste.” She sipped more of her wine and sighed happily. “Besides, this is much better.”

“Pussy grape juice,” Cynthia muttered and raised a hand for another shot.

The bartender eyed her warily. Rune recognized him as one of the newer hosts in an early build: his motions were still hesitant and his eyes didn’t quite track on the guests, as if he was still reading his lines off a page. “You’ve had eight already, ma’am. Shouldn’t you consider slowing down?”

“I know how much I can take,” Cynthia informed him and stabbed at the bar with her finger. “Another.” The bartender shifted his feet uncomfortably, then turned back toward the bottle.

Rune rolled her eyes and said quietly, “Noah, acknowledge behavioral override.”

He looked at Rune and his eyes instantly focused on her. This was a neural pathway he knew. “Behavioral override acknowledged, staff supervisor Gudrun Michaelson.”

“Increase assertiveness two points, reduce meekness by one.”

“Acknowledged behavioral changes.”

“Save settings. Reset scenario.”

“Acknowledged.” Noah wobbled briefly and his eyes tracked on Cynthia again. He looked down at her glass and glared at her. “Ma’am, I think eight is enough. Could I interest you in a seltzer?”

Cynthia glared at Rune. “You blocked my booze.”

“I did.” Rune grinned and sipped her wine. “You’re beyond the point of self-analysis and Noah’s programming wasn’t allowing him to inform you. I don’t want him and the pretty little barmaid over there to have to clean up your puke later.”

Cynthia dropped her chin onto her hands on the edge of the bar and sighed. “Okay, fine. Strawberry seltzer, Noah?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned away, then paused and leaned back. “We have fresh strawberries. Would you like to try the strawberry lemonade?”

“Oooh,” murmured Cynthia happily. “Yes, please.”

“He upsells very well,” observed Rune with a smile. “Noah?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Could you save some of those strawberries aside for me? I’ll have that lemonade when I’m done with my wine, please.”

He grinned at her and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I can do that.”

As he vanished to make the lemonade, Rune watched him go with a fondness in her chest. She knew some of the plans for his narrative, that he’d be one of the shopkeepers in town available for a romantic subquest which involved those strawberries. “He’s cute, too.”

“Kinda young and squishy for your tastes, isn’t he?” Cynthia teased.

“That’s what I said,” Rune replied. “Cute. I like cute sometimes, too.”

Cynthia snorted. “You like the bad boys. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smoochin’ on the outlaws when you help after a shootout.”

“Some of the outlaws are also cute,” Rune said and stuck out her tongue.

Noah brought back Cynthia’s strawberry lemonade and the bottle of wine for Rune, his eyebrows raised. She shook her head and smiled at him. He smiled back. Cynthia watched him go with a longing sigh. “I really wanted another whiskey.”

“Drink your lemonade,” Rune chuckled.

“Did you hear about the employee package they’re talking about in HR?” Cynthia used the spoon to scoop out a lemonade-saturated strawberry and slurped it up.

Rune raised an eyebrow. “No, what’s up?”

“Employee appreciation day or some such shit. They wanted to test some of the newer subquests, so they booked out the whole park for staff use. Half-price week.”

“Half?” Rune stared at her in surprise. “Shit, I can handle that.”

Cynthia grinned. “Thought you’d be interested. Gonna do it?”

“A whole week?” Rune reached into her pocket to pull out her phone and flipped to see her savings balance. “Damn, I wish. I’ve got enough for a few days, though.”

A slow, predatory smile crossed Cynthia’s face and she whispered, “I’ll loan you the rest if you want to take the whole week.” Rune stared at her and her friend grinned widely. “Girl, you haven’t gotten laid in at least a year. Take the damn week and fuck Rebus until the man can’t move.”

Rune felt her face flush and she looked away with a sheepish grin. “Am I that transparent?”

“That you have a favorite host? Most of us do. Mine’s Clementine. I think it’s the eyes.”

Rune looked down at the balance in her account again and sighed. “Come with me?”

Cynthia grinned and shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got the cash and the vacation for it. Blackhat it for a week?”

Rune smiled. “Honestly? I was kind of thinking about white hatting, go the abducted maiden route.”

“Bullshit!” roared Cynthia and she cackled. “There is no way in hell you’ll go white hat for a whole week. And the Stockholm Syndrome subquest? C’mon, you hate that that one even exists, let alone play it out.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Rune sighed. “I mean, yes I’m gonna pin Rebus down for as long as I can, but I’m not sure I want to do the rough-rider thing again.”

“Check with Verity,” Cynthia said and ate another strawberry. “I know they were releasing a few new subquests for this. Maybe they’ve got something new for Rebus or a generic villain subquest.” Her eyes glittered. “She does know your tastes.”

“She does,” Rune said with a smile. “Maybe I will.”

“You should. I’ll book the seats tonight and you can pay me back.”

“Thanks, Cynthia.”

Cynthia clapped her hand on Rune’s shoulder and grinned. “In the interest of getting you laid? There’s very little I wouldn’t do.” Rune snorted at her and reached just as Noah was sliding another strawberry lemonade across the bar.

***

Rebus grinned as he took the arm of the middle-aged woman in the corset and overly feathered hat. “Of course, I can show you the best parts of town. Well, the most fun anyway.” He walked her down the steps of the train platform and they started strolling through the main street. “This here’s the Mariposa,” he said, pointing to the saloon. “And here--”

A loud crack echoed in the street and the woman on his arm screamed. Rebus blinked.

_Self-analysis: fatal injury. Throat compromised, no vocalization possible. Blood volume loss: 1L and rising._

His hands went to his neck and he tried to make a sound, only managed to suck more blood into his lungs. He choked and dropped to his knees, staring in confusion at the blood covering his hands and soaking his shirt cuffs.

_Blood volume loss: 3L and rising. Initiate sleep mode. Termination of narrative, compensation voucher issued._

With one last gurgled protest, Rebus dropped dead into the street and his world went black. He was spared the chaos in the aftermath of the shooting, the conflict between the two guests involved. He didn’t witness the sheriff and his deputies coming to politely break up the fist fight that ensued between the woman in the corset and the trigger-happy gunman, nor was his narrative recording enabled for the code words stated to the woman, letting her know that her narrative was being reset and she was welcome to either wait for his repair or choose another host with whom to play out the remainder of her stay. He wasn’t awake to watch her take the arm of a different outlaw and strut off.

He didn’t feel the hands of the deputies as they hauled him off to the mortician. He didn’t see the staff member who transferred him from the casket to a stretcher and sent him down to the washroom. He didn’t feel himself stripped and sprayed with water to wash off the blood, moved again to a stretcher, delivered to the chop shops for repair.

He didn’t feel anything until a hand touched his face and sighed. “Dammit, Rebus. You weren’t due back here for another three days. Who’d you piss off this time?” He couldn’t see. The blackness was still complete. But it was her voice again. The woman he heard when he went black. He didn’t always hear her, but he couldn’t help but remember when he did. He couldn’t respond, couldn’t turn his head to follow her hand or speak to answer her question, that he didn’t know who had shot him or why.

He just listened while she hummed some tune under her breath he didn’t know, listened to the strange sandpaper-on-leather sounds, felt himself moved and repositioned and the sounds continuing. “Power up in diagnostic mode,” the voice said. Rebus opened his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the slab, sat up and came to rest upright. “Vocal test.”

“The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog,” he replied. His diagnostic voice was unaccented, flat and simple and even. His consciousness barely recognized it as his voice at all.

“Upper register test.”

“The QUICK brown fox jumped over the LAZY dog.” His voice spiked into falsetto on the adjectives, still without accent. Aren’t foxes red? Or grey?

“Lower register test.”

He repeated the sentence in a rumble and felt the hand under his chin, tipping his head back and running along the skin, testing the surface integrity.

“Spit in your hand.” He turned his head and spat into his hand. He heard the woman humming in disappointment. “Again.” He worked his mouth and spat again, producing saliva this time. “Better. Emotional affect on. Tears test.”

Something burst in his chest and Rebus started to cry. Longing sank deep into his bones and he leaned down to cover his face with his hands. It was unavoidable, uncontrollable, grief like he had never felt in his life.

“Good. Emotional affect off.”

Peace swept through him and he sat back up. Her hand touched his face with a rag and he felt her cleaning off his skin. “Blow,” she added, pinching the rag over his nose and he blew his nose into it. She wiped his nose and took away the rag. “Good job. How do you feel, Rebus?”

“Weird,” he replied and felt like it was the truest word he had ever uttered. “Like I could really use a beer.”

Her hand cupped his cheek and she patted him gently. “Tomorrow. Have a good night, Rebus. Sleep mode.”

The blackness folded over him completely.

_Sensory input arrested. Motor function arrested._


	3. Chapter 3

 

  


[Originally posted by lousolversons](http://tmblr.co/Zu5zec2Z7miMD)

 

 

“Welcome to Westworld. Where anything is possible.”

Rune glared at the promotional screen as it played artfully scripted scenes from the park over music. “You’d think they could have turned off the hoopla when it’s just staff in the park,” she muttered to Cynthia.

Cynthia bumped her shoulder with a grin. “Oh, cheer up, mopey. We’ll have an outlaw between your legs in no time and then you can really relax.” Rune gave her a half-smirk, half-glare and bumped back as they wandered into the queue of staff members headed into processing and boarding for the train. “Did Verity get you a narrative to work with?”

“Yeah.” Rune smiled to herself and swayed while they waited in line, her hands in her pockets. “Blackhat outlaw narrative. Big bounty visiting from the territories has to convince the locals to work with her instead of against her.”

Cynthia snorted. “Sounds like work.”

Rune grinned and shrugged. “There’s at least five romantic subquests tied to that narrative, including Rebus. It’s a new angle for him, rival to lover.”

“And you can take the lover part as fast or as slow as you want,” Cynthia chuckled. “No limits, right?”

Rune tried not to blush. “Well, actually…”

“What!?” Cynthia turned her friend to face her and shook her. “You put limits on your encounter!? What the fuck is wrong with you, girl? I thought this was a vacation!”

“It’s is!” Rune cried and they both paused to look at the little cluster of office geeks standing in line behind them. “Hello!” Rune said and gave them a little wave before she looked at Cynthia again with a grin. “I’m only limiting it to his personality matrix. I really love the things Rebus comes up with when he’s improvising. It made more sense to not require that he comply.”

Cynthia shook her head and sighed. “I’ll never understand you. Why make it harder than it needs to be?”

“I like canon Rebus!” protested Rune. “Is that so wrong?”

A young woman dressed in the smooth, simplistic lines of a park greeter stepped up to face them, her perfectly made-up smile patient. “Ms. Johnson? Ms. Michaelson? If you would follow me, please.”

“Wanna lay a bet if she’s one of the hosts or one of the humans?” Cynthia whispered to Rune. 

“Which one would you guess?”

“Host.” 

Rune chuckled. “Fifty bucks and drinks are on you,” she said.

“Done.”

The room the greeter escorted them into was full of outfits and holographic style sheets, advertisements for narratives and the usual display of in-park firearms. “Welcome to Westworld,” she said, sweeping an arm. “Since you work within the park itself, I would assume you’re familiar with this part of the trip.”

“Nothing but a sweet and dreamless slumber,” Cynthia blurted. The woman glared at her and Rune started to laugh. When nothing else happened, she paused and sighed. “Really? Dammit, fine. I’ll pay for drinks.”

“Like I haven’t gotten that before,” the greeter sighed. “Only eighty times a day for the last three years.”

“You should relax your shoulders more,” Rune said, lifting her chin. “You’re trying too hard to look human. It usually gives us away.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” the greeter said and shook her head. “They always wonder. I had hoped that it’d be better with staff.” She gave them a dirty look and Cynthia looked embarrassed.

“If it’s any consolation,” Rune said as she passed the woman and headed to the style sheets to decide on her in-park look, “I knew you were human.”

“Yeah, but you work with them,” snorted Cynthia. 

“And you work with humans all day,” Rune grinned. “No dice.” She pulled one of the sheets out and rotated the hologram. “What do you think about this one?”

“You’re doing the Borrow a Cup of Bullets narrative, aren’t you?” the greeter asked, considering the suit Rune had pulled with its gun belt over worn leather and denim. 

“Is that what they’re calling it?” Rune laughed. 

“Just in the writer’s room,” she grinned. “Verity started calling it that and it sort of stuck.” She fluffed out the cotton shirt from under the riding leathers. “This should work pretty well.”

“I’m all set,” Cynthia chirped happily. When Rune looked back, her friend was twirling inside the hologram of a more standard lady’s dress in shades of muted purple and red that went well with her coloration. “And a big poofy hat.” She paused and struck a pose while the hologram flickered. “White, of course.”

“Of course,” Rune grinned.

***

_Guests. Identify: 87 NTags: 1_

Rebus stretched himself out in the chair with a contented sigh. Four or five of his own crew wandered the barroom of the Mariposa and he had one of the newer girls at the table with him, playing a game of solitaire with the poker deck. He had been thinking about starting up a game of poker but not enough people had been awake and interested to fill out the table. He didn’t mind, though. Even an outlaw enjoys a day off once in a while.

A train whistle carried from the station and the whore next to him looked up curiously. “Newcomers,” she said in a cheerful voice. 

“Chance to turn a trick or three that ain’t been here a million times,” Rebus chuckled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Have fun, doll. I’ve got stuff to do.” He walked out into the street and tipped his hat back to study the people milling around in their usual morning configurations. He saw Willie and a few other of his group hanging near the horses, eyes turned toward the station. “What’s got you guys so jumpy?” he asked.

Willie looked up at him with round eyes. “Din’ you hear, boss?” When Rebus raised an eyebrow at him, Willie sidled closer and whispered, “Train’s comin’ in from San Mesa.” He widened his eyes significantly. “That’s the Valkyrie's territory.”

_Narrative: Modified timeline, NTag accommodation, romantic subquest, sexual sideline, personality matrix limited._

“The Valkyrie?” Rebus frowned and tilted his head to look down the street toward the train station. “She the bitch who’s been picking off juicy stagecoaches for the last month or two?” When Willie nodded, Rebus pulled on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Maybe we oughta go give her a proper welcome, then.” He pulled his hat down and grinned at Willie, who looked horrified at the thought. “Get the boys.”

He strutted. The town wasn’t precisely his--that was far more Horace’s territory--but he felt at home enough to strut down the main street, guns in plain sight. Several of his gang straggled behind him and Rebus settled on the wooden steps that lead up to the platform of the train station. As the train pulled to a stop and people began to flood out, something tickled in the back of his mind and Rebus paused to consider it, one hand rubbing the center of his chest like something there ached.

**!!--Behavioral anomaly detected. Logmark StaffN03:D01. 7/2/23 07:20--!!**

_Blue eyes flashing behind heavy glasses. A smile that seemed to vanish before it had resolved. Curves that wouldn’t quit, especially through denim and cotton. Big straw Stetson pulled low over a nose peppered in freckles. Hands rolling him to the side. The sound of sandpaper on leather and a soft voice humming a song. “Tell me a story.”_

He shook his head to clear it and looked up at the platform. She was standing there next to a woman in ruffles and lace almost bouncing in her excitement. It was her. No question.

**!!--Behavioral anomaly detected. Logmark StaffN03:D01. 7/2/23 07:25--!!**

Rebus took a few steps up to the platform and just watched her, unable to pull his eyes away. It was the girl he had seen, the girl who kept showing up at the edges of his dreams.

**!!--Behavioral modification. Personality reset. Logmark StaffN03:01. 07/02/23 07:27--!!**

He stared at her, unable to look away. “Nobody told me the Valkyrie was so damn pretty,” he muttered and Willie laughed nervously. She and her companion walked across the platform and she put her hands on her hips, pulling her long leather riding coat back and showing off the guns on her belt. The belt looked worn and the guns well-cared-for. “Do believe I’ll introduce myself.”

**!!--Narrative anomaly detected. Logmark StaffN03:01. 07/02/23 07:30--!!**

He walked up the steps and went to stand between the Valkyrie and her view of the town. “Morning, ma’am. An’ how’re you on this fine morning?”

She blinked and looked at him in surprise. The woman next to her elbowed her and gave a knowing, teasing laugh before she wandered off and Rebus found himself smiling. Maybe his reputation had preceded him, too. Such as it was. The Valkyrie looked him over and smiled slightly. “Quite well, thank you. And you are?”

“Rebus, ma’am. Local guide and entrepreneur.” 

“Really.” Her tone was amused and a little skeptical, but it just made him grin at her more. “And what sort of enterprises do you pursue, Rebus?”

“Them’s that pay,” he said and reached to take her hand and bow over it. “I’m at your service, ma’am.”

**!!--Narrative anomaly detected. Logmark StaffN03:01. 07/02/23 07:37--!!**

“Well, that was certainly easier than I was expecting.” She took his hand and allowed him to lead her down the steps and into the street. Rebus was a little surprised when she curled her hand around his arm and walked with him like a lady might in spite of all her masculine trappings. “So, Rebus, tell me about your world.”

“It’s not an easy life, but it’s fun. Rough an’ tumble, you might say. Those of us who range have it rougher’n most, but we usually like it that way.”

Her head tilted and he looked down at her when she peeked up from under the brim of her hat. “Usually?”

**!!--Behavioral anomaly detected. Logmark StaffN03:01. 07/02/23 07:43--!!**

“Usually,” he agreed. “Sometimes, though, I wonder if there ain’t more.”

**!!--Behavioral modification. Personality reset. Logmark StaffN03:01. 07/02/23 07:44--!!**

“More’n just runnin’ and thievin’ and payin’ for a lay.” He seemed to realize what he was saying and glanced at her. “Pardon, ma’am.”

“No apology necessary,” she smiled and he felt warm when she squeezed his arm. “What more could you want, though?”

“Someone to share it with?” he glanced at her and smirked at the blush on her face. “Heard tell you’ve been cleanin’ up some right nice stagecoaches lately. Care to share the bounty?”

Her face seemed to shift and settle into something other than the woman he had first taken her for. “I wouldn’t mind at all. I’ve been thinking about extending out my territory a little and havin’ the locals on my side would make that much easier.”

“I’ll be happy to do what I can, ma’am.”

“Rune,” she said and smiled at him. “Call me Rune.”

“Rune?” he chuckled. “What kinda name is that?”

“What kind of name is Rebus?” she shot back, but she was smiling when she said it. 

“Alright, Rune, you have me in the pocket.” He inclined his head to concede the point. “What can I do for you today, Miss Rune?”

“Where does a girl go for a decent drink in this town?”

Rebus grinned. He had a feeling he was going to like this girl.

***

A light flashed on Verity’s console and she sighed, pushed the comm button. “What is it, J.T.?” As if she didn’t have enough on her plate monitoring the new narrative branches and keeping an eye on some of the members of staff she knew were more likely to fuck with the coding just for fun.

J.T.’s voice answered back, “We’re getting some anomalous blips in the Cup of Bullets narrative, Ver. Behavioral and narrative errors and deviations. Should we call it back?”

Verity considered for a moment, then pulled up the screens that would let her watch Rebus and Rune walking through the town toward the Mariposa. “No, let it play. If anyone knows when something’s going wrong, it’s Rune. She’ll let us know if we need to roll it back and she’s got the command clearance to keep herself out of trouble.”

“You sure, boss?” J.T. sounded worried, more so than usual.

“What kind of deviations are we talking about here?” Verity asked as Rebus ordered from the bartender and Rune settled herself on a barstool, legs crossed and her hat tipped back on her curly auburn hair. “Everything looks pretty normal from here.”

“The host’s system keeps throwing up flags,” J.T. explained. “It’s like he’s rushing the narrative the way a guest would with no limits. I didn’t think they could do that.”

Verity snorted. “They can’t. You worry too much, J.T. He’s limited to his personality matrix, just like Rune asked for. I’ve got no doubt he’s following his usual protocols for when he sees a girl he likes.”

“That’s just it, boss,” J.T. said nervously. “He’s not. Rebus is usually intimidated by women in outlaw garb. He considers them threats to his territory like an angry dog, just like he does male outlaws. With a no-limits scenario, I can see him warming up this quick to her, but not a matrix-limited one. He’d try to posture at least before following her around like a love-sick puppy.”

Verity hummed under her breath and zoomed in the camera a little. She could clearly see the expressions on Rune and Rebus’s faces; it was one of the few times she had ever seen the senior field tech smile like that and Rebus’s eyes were fixed on her face, barely blinking as if he was afraid she’d vanish between blinks. “Send me the data on those codes and I’ll take a look,” she said. “Leave the narrative for now. I’m sure Rune will pull out if it’s too out of character. She’s always been partial to Rebus.” 

“If you say so.” J.T. paused and Verity listened to him clicking through a series of commands on his computer. “Data’s in your box now, Verity.”

“She does most of his builds herself, you know,” Verity grinned. “Narrative might write the scenarios, but she writes Rebus. Even if someone else modifies him, she’ll go in afterward to approve it or change what she thinks is wrong. Her initials are all over his code.”

J.T. was silent for a moment, then asked, “Is that healthy?”

“We work in a fantasy-granting park full of vastly intelligent robots, J.T. I’m not sure health has much to do with any of it.” Verity opened her inbox and flipped through the data files J.T. had sent her. “I’ll take a look at these and get back to you, though. Keep an eye on Sector 13 for me, would you? I just saw Jesse and Dave head to the back end with a couple of settlers and I do not want to have to spend my weekend combing out the tangle of code those two will leave behind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” J.T. answered. “Nobody wants that.”

***

Rune really was surprised by how easy it had been to ease into Rebus’s confidence. It didn’t seem to match with Verity’s description of the scenario as something of an uphill climb to gain the trust of the local outlaws. She decided to worry about it later, since having Rebus’s full attention like this was a welcome surprise. He was being downright flirty and it was a sensation she wasn’t at all used to.

“Care to see where we hole up?” he asked and his eyebrows were waggling knowingly. 

Rune chuckled and reached to pat his cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re forward, but I think I’d like to check out the action first.” His face fell a little, but he recovered quickly and escorted her out to where the schedule for the stagecoach was posted. She looked over the schedule, let Rebus suggest one and agreed before heading down to the stables to pick out a horse. “Any mustangs?”

The stable keeper looked up in surprise. “Yes, actually. Just had a few new ponies brought in with the last roundup. Nothing broken, though.”

“That’s fine.” Rune grinned and watched Rebus’s surprised expression out of the corner of her eye. “I tend to like a rougher ride.” She hopped the rails into the paddock and the stable keeper showed her the horses in question. There was a handsome two-year-old mare with a dark chestnut coat and a blaze that wandered across her face instead of neatly down her nose. She tossed her head and stomped when Rune came close.

“That one’s mean as sin,” the keeper told her quickly. “Don’ let her get close to your fingers. She’s liable to bite one clean off.”

Rune grinned and spoke gently to the horse before whistling the coded phrase to calm her. She didn’t much care for staff that used cheat codes and loopholes in the narratives to get everything exactly the way they wanted it, but she wanted that horse and knew calming it would score her big points with Rebus. As soon as the phrase was complete, the mustang tossed her head once more, then stood still and docile, watching Rune. She held out her hand and the mare walked to her, snuffled her palm, lipped at her fingers a little and held completely still while Rune slipped a halter over her head and guided her back to the gate.

The stable keeper and Rebus just stared at her as the mustang followed he through the gate and stopped at her shoulder, lipping her hair when she stopped walking. “How much?” she asked the keeper cheerfully.

“Kinda spotty for a pegasus, ain’t she?” Rebus asked.

Rune blinked in surprise. “Pegasus?”

“Didn’ the Valkyries ride pegasuses...es...es?” 

“Pegasi?” Rune mused.

“Is pegasus plural?” added Rebus. “Like deer or moose?”

They stopped in the middle of the shared ramble and Rune found herself grinning while Rebus chewed his lip on a sheepish smile. “I ain’t good with talkin’,” he said finally.

“The fact that you thought about it at all makes me like you even more,” Rune murmured and put her hand on his forearm for a second. “And you knew anything at all about Norse mythology, which surprises and fascinates me.”

“You’ve got no problem with the talkin’, do ya?”

“Not usually.” Rune turned back to the stable keeper. “How much?”

“Hell, I bought her for five expecting to sell her for twenty after she was broken. Take her for ten and have done with it.”

“Sold,” Rune grinned and reached up to rub her horse’s neck while the mare continued to eat her hair like straw.


End file.
